


Dimensionality

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:33:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7087288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s easy for their relationship not to affect the team because it’s got nothing to do with basketball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dimensionality

Aomine lives at home but he always seems to worm his way into Wakamatsu’s dorm room (Wakamatsu reminds him that his parents don’t pay for this but Aomine’s already in bed tangled in the covers as if they’d been thrown in a washing machine together). It’s probably against the rules, but then again some of the stuff they do there is solidly against the rules anyway (and Wakamatsu knows the disciplinary handbook forward and backward by this point) so what’s one more maybe-break?

It’s hard to argue when Aomine actually looks pretty cute when he’s asleep (well, that way he can’t mouth off or try and put Wakamatsu in a compromising position or undermine him as captain) and when, all things considered, Wakamatsu enjoys having him there. It’s annoying when he has to climb over Aomine or steal the covers back for the sixteenth time that night, but it’s nice to wake up with the warm body of your boyfriend next to you and not have to get ready alone (and yeah, it’s sappy and Aomine would never let him live it down if he knew). Well, it’s nice until Aomine steals his clean uniform shirt (and that used to be bearable but Wakamatsu’s growing again and his spare is almost too small and none of his turtlenecks even come close to fitting anymore) or uses the last of his toothpaste or tries to kiss him open-mouthed with his rancid morning breath. And Imayoshi can call it domestic bliss all he wants (and he does every time Wakamatsu sees him) but it sure as hell isn’t blissful most of the time.

Like now, when the pollen count is high and Wakamatsu’s already starting to sniffle and Aomine is lying on his arm and he can’t get out and it’s also hot because apparently they don’t get the good parts of spring with the bad this year. Wakamatsu kicks the back of Aomine’s leg; Aomine doesn’t move.

“Hey, Asshole, wake up.”

He prods Aomine’s back with a finger; Aomine jolts forward and rolls over, still somehow on top of Wakamatsu’s arm.

“Morning, Babe.”

“Get off my arm.”

Aomine sighs, rolls closer to Wakamatsu (and finally he can pull his arm free, just when it’s starting to go numb) and snuggles into his chest. Acting cute right now isn’t going to work, not when Wakamatsu can see the glowing face of the digital clock counting down the time left before practice.

“Some of us have to get up,” says Wakamatsu, yelping as Aomine slides a foot up his leg.

“Skip practice; Satsuki can run it.”

The prospect is attractive—and Aomine can certainly get away with it (although he hasn’t in a long time, not since the early days of Wakamatsu’s captaincy). But Wakamatsu’s fully aware of the example he has to say, and he’d taken a vow to himself that he wouldn’t let this relationship get in the way of the team. It hasn’t yet, but today sure as hell isn’t going to be the day when it starts. Aomine’s breathing is getting deeper and his grip on Wakamatsu’s arm is slackening; he’s falling back asleep. Wakamatsu sighs and extracts himself. Aomine cracks an eye open.

“For real?”

“Yes,” says Wakamatsu. “You should, too.”

“You’re the captain,” says Aomine. “Shouldn’t you pull me out of bed?”

Wakamatsu rolls his eyes. This is even more tempting, but he’s not even going to try it. Being around Aomine five times as much (rather than half a game her and there, it had turned to full games and practices and seeing each other in the hallways and dates and now this) means he has to pick his battles. At first, emptying out his generators on getting mad at all the things Aomine had done to irritate him (on purpose or not) had been exhausting, but he’d learned to stop reacting quite so much. Besides, as captain, he should be setting a good example by keeping composure.

Not that that’s always relevant. It’s easy for their relationship not to affect the team because it’s got nothing to do with basketball. Sure, basketball is how they’d met and they still talk about it but they don’t, like, have sex in the locker room showers (Aomine had suggested it, but Wakamatsu had chosen to ignore it, because—not that he’d really thought about it extensively—the showers are too small for both of them to fit) or give each other smoldering looks during practice the way the protagonists of Sakurai’s basketball yaoi do. Aomine the basketball player is different from Aomine, Wakamatsu’s boyfriend; they’re the same person but different facets separated by a clean line like a well-cut gemstone.

Something feels different today, though, as they walk to practice (despite his whining, Aomine had followed Wakamatsu out the door half-awake, and had walked half a step behind and was probably looking at Wakamatsu’s ass). It’s probably the pollen; Wakamatsu sneezes. They’re among the first ones there, and no one is really in the mood to talk. They change in relative silence, and head to the gym to stretch. Wakamatsu’s throat and eyes are still irritated from the hay fever, but he feels a little better once his muscles are loose. Everyone’s there on time and so they start running drills, passing and shooting and blocking in three-on-three. Wakamatsu’s in the first group, but Aomine’s in the second; Wakamatsu’s still chugging water from the bottle when he makes his move. He steals the ball from their third-string point guard and throws a perfect behind-the-back bounce pass to Sakurai, who looks as surprised as any of them. But he’s still Sakurai, and even with recovery time the ball snaps off his fingers in no time. Wakamatsu’s barely paying attention, though; Aomine is already under the net looking for the rebound that probably won’t be necessary; he’s darted across and zigzagged through the other players standing agape like they’re cones in a ski slalom. He’s done this kind of thing in practice a million times before; he’s such a goddamn showoff (and Coach is telling them that it’s an own goal and both teams have to retry the drill and Wakamatsu’s nodding along because it’s true) but something about it looks kind of sexy. It’s not Aomine’s tousled hair or shit-eating grin; it’s the way he’d reached in to get the ball, the deftness and surety of that pass, the motion as he’d run—Wakamatsu is damn glad they’re his, that Aomine is his player—that Aomine is his, period. And then it hit him that he is not supposed to be feeling attracted to Aomine in this capacity, that he never does, that this kind of possession and attraction is completely different than the things he’s supposed to feel, the things he always feels.

Aomine’s basketball has always been amazing, clean and stripped and almost pure in its simplicity but hard to follow and harder to keep up with, impressive and occasionally mesmerizing. But it’s never been like this before, and fuck. Is he finally turning into one of Sakurai’s lovestruck characters, mooning over his teammate in the middle of a gym?

“Wakamatsu-san?”

He almost jumps three feet in the air (but even his vertical’s not that good). Momoi looks up at him, wolfish grin on her face. Does she know? She knows about them, but had he been obvious? Had he really been just staring blatantly at Aomine? Does everyone know, now? Are they laughing at him? Can they still take him seriously as captain?

“I’ve drawn up a few plays based on that pass-and-rebound from Dai-chan and Sakurai-kun, and I was wondering if you had any preference?”

The page on her clipboard, crammed with notes in three different colors of pen, shows several different diagrams.

“You think Aomine would follow it? You know, since he, uh. Doesn’t really stick to the plans or like to do the same things like that.”

“Well, the first time we use it it’ll be a surprise,” says Momoi.

She smiles at him, shit; she knows. Wakamatsu tries very hard to control his breathing. He’s succeeding, staring at the player formations, when a sweaty arm falls around his shoulders.

“What’s up? Talking about me?”

“Not everything is about you, Dai-chan.”

Wakamatsu’s heart is thudding, loud and hard enough that there’s no way Aomine isn’t feeling it on his skin.

“Oi, I’m your captain. At least pretend to show me respect.”

“I am showing you respect. There’s nothing more respectful than affection.”

Wakamatsu snorts and elbows Aomine in the side. “Take a look at these plays. You like any of them?”

Aomine drops his arm and elbows Wakamatsu back.

“I can’t see; your stupid ass is in the way.”

Wakamatsu elbows him again and then steps away. “I’m up next, anyway.”

“I’ll be watching,” says Aomine.

Wakamatsu rolls his eyes—and if he tries a little bit harder to make the perfect block, and then watches Aomine’s turn a little closer than usual, well. He’s the captain; it’s his job to be really into this.

**Author's Note:**

> happy aowaka day!!
> 
> (feedback is always appreciated)


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